


Resolutions

by siDEADde



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Smut, New Year's Eve Prompt, Sylvanas isn't dead, and feels i guess?, because I don't know anything about Warcraft canon, please ignore anything you know about canon, resolutions, sylvaina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:35:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28489929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siDEADde/pseuds/siDEADde
Summary: What would happen if she gave in to the random odd compulsions to brush her lips against the column of Sylvanas’ neck while she works out a stubborn knot with her thumbs, or grind back against her when Jaina is little-spooned with Sylvanas’ arm curved across her stomach under the blanket on the couch? Jaina’s not naïve; she knows what they do isn’t remotely within the realm of roommate behavior.
Relationships: Jaina Proudmoore/Sylvanas Windrunner
Comments: 22
Kudos: 248
Collections: Warcraft New Year's Prompts





	Resolutions

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> This here is a LATE (sorry!) prompt fill for NYE.  
> Please ignore everything you know about canon WoW. There isn't any. Even if you squint.
> 
> The WoW/DA:I fic is still being worked on. I promise.  
> Currently, i've been compelled to write words for supercorp...sorry!

Sure, they wanted someone with her talents and untapped potential in Dalaran. They just wanted it all for free and for her to be grateful. The problem was, grateful didn’t pay the bills and apprenticing didn’t either. They sold the program hard, trying their best to hit all of her checkboxes: she’d be far from the simmering derision of Kul Tiras, she’d receive training from Archmage Antonidas, she’d be her own boss (as much as an apprentice could be), and she’d receive a small stipend. When they’d mentioned the stipend, she jumped ship (literally) in the hopes that she could turn over a new leaf and make herself into something that would make her mother proud.

She really should have paid closer attention to the adjective used when describing the stipend. Small indeed. Looking at her budget spread out on the table, she knows she’s got  _ maybe _ a month before she’s going to be in the red. Crawling back to Boralus, broke, under Katherine’s disdainful gaze is at the absolute bottom of her to-do list. Well, it’s almost the new year, so there are resolutions to be made.

  1. Save money.



Resolution. Singular. That’s pretty much it. Maybe it was a bit overzealous of her to spring for the one bedroom apartment when it was just her and a studio would have been fine. Maybe it was even overzealous of her to stay in Dalaran at all, when she could’ve definitely found something cheaper in Lordaeron and just used the portal system to go back and forth. If she’s going to start slumming it, she might as well look at the message board in the city. While apartment shopping during the holidays isn’t advisable, she might get lucky. She grabs her heavy winter cloak and, throwing it over her shoulders, she heads out across the city to beg a portal to Lordaeron.

s§s

She reads the announcement twice because it’s entirely possible she’s hallucinating.

_ Seeking female roommate, mages only apply. Must be employed. Two bedroom flat in the northside of the city, quick access to portals and stables. Must be able to carry intelligent conversation. Thalassian a plus. Rent negotiable.  _

The stars align for her tonight and before she can overthink her good fortune, she tears the notice down from the board and strides off toward the listed address. She doesn’t know Thalassian, but she’s willing to learn if the poster of this message isn’t some type of creepy elf. Kael’thas has been her only experience with elves so far, and his smarmy comments and innuendo haven’t left that great of an impression. Her thoughts drift as she walks, shifting and sorting what she anticipates will be questions - cooking ability (nil), cleanliness (messy but not  _ dirty _ ), sleeping habits (poor, is there such a thing as an allday owl?), volume (quiet, so very, very quiet), social life (on par with aforementioned cooking skills); she hopes that quiet and being a mage are enough positives because after this personal inventory she realizes she’s not bringing a whole lot to the table. 

It grows a bit quieter as the bustle of the city thins out the closer she gets to the apartment. She’s a special kind of desperate, but still takes a moment to frame her dealbreakers -Kael’thas, a smoker, a bellicose drunk, a frequent house-partier - her resolution is to save money, not lose her apprenticeship from spelling (or drinking) her potential roommate to death.

Before she’s ready, she’s standing in front of an older stone building surrounded by neat hedges and a swept front stoop. The curtains filter the flickering, yellow light from inside -the glow, warm and homey, makes her smile. She snaps her fingers, the spell tightens her braid and vanishes the road dust that’s collected in her skirts and cloak. After pinching at her cheeks to pink them, she squares her shoulders, clears her throat, and knocks. There’s a clatter of something falling to the ground and a muffled curse, she swallows nervously before the door is wrenched open by the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen.

Her skin glows softly in the latent firelight that shines behind her like some ridiculous aura, picking up the golden tones in long ash-blond hair. One long eyebrow is arched over pale blue eyes heavily outlined in kohl. Soft, pink lips twist into a confused frown before the woman clears her throat and asks, “Can I help you?”

“I’m here about the room?”

The frown draws down even further and the woman looks out over her head to the street behind her. “It’s New Year’s Eve? How did you get here? Don’t you have a party to attend or something?”

Jaina matches the woman with a bemused frown of her own. “No? I’m here about the room.” She waves the flier in front of the other woman’s face, and leans a bit to try to look around her into the room behind. “Did you post this? Is there someone else I should be asking for?”

The elf chuckles then, but Jaina is unamused. She doesn’t have time to be the butt of anyone’s joke; time is money, and money is something she’s practically fresh out of. “Has someone already gotten the room, then?”

“Quite single-minded aren’t you, little mage?” The elf murmurs to herself before she steps back and indicates that Jaina should follow. She responds once Jaina is inside, standing on the small rag rug just inside the door. “No, no one has gotten the room. I just posted that this afternoon and wasn’t expecting to hear from the posting until tomorrow at the earliest. Most people are celebrating with friends and family this evening.” She gives Jaina’s boots a pointed look before moving across the open room to the kitchen. “You can hang your cloak on the coat tree there, and shoes off please. Would you like something warm to drink?”

Jaina relaxes some with a sigh. She still has a chance, and she’s always been one to take those as they come. She hooks her cloak on an ornate rendering of Teldrassil and leans down to loosen her bootlaces so she can toe them off. “Do you have coffee? A coffee sounds wonderful.”

She sits in a wrought iron barstool at the tall, stone-topped kitchen island and looks around, sinking deeper into unhappiness as she catalogues all the expensive, beyond-her-budget features belied by the house’s unassuming facade. Her host turns with a steaming mug, eyebrows raised in question when she sees the defeat that Jaina is unable to school from her face fast enough. “Cream and/or sugar?”

Jaina only shakes her head and sucks a regretful breath in through her teeth as she puts all her cards on the table. “I don’t think this is going to work, honestly. I’m here because of a New Year’s resolution, but the more I think about it, the more I realize I won’t be able to keep my resolution if I move here.”

The elf’s lips curve into a smirk around the mug she’s lifted to her lips. “I think, perhaps, you’re putting the cart before the horse. Especially since we don’t even know each other’s names yet.” She holds eye contact over the rim of her mug and takes a sip before lowering it and extending her hand. “I’m Sylvanas Windrunner, currently acting as a diplomat for Quel’thalas here in Lordaeron.” The distaste curled around the word diplomat makes Jaina want to laugh. She takes Sylvanas’ hand and shakes it firmly.

“Jaina Proudmoore, apprentice under Archmage Antonidas, looking for a place to live here in Lordaeron.”

Sylvanas pulls her hand back with a little squeeze to Jaina’s fingers, the smirk firmly returned to her lips. “Let’s stop beating around the bush. You seem smart enough and you’re a woman and a mage, so you fulfill a majority of the requirements I need filled. How soon can you move in?”

“I-I don’t think -we didn’t discuss rent?” Jaina pulls the flier over from where she laid it on the counter. “It says negotiable, but I’m pretty sure you’re not going to want to negotiate down to where I need it to be with everything looking like this.” She gestures around the room at the expensive stove and gorgeous wood cabinets.

“What I need for rent is negotiable because it’s not money.” For the first time since Jaina’s arrived, Sylvanas looks uncomfortable. “I’m too far from the Sunwell here and before long, I’ll start showing signs of mana withdrawal. It’s not something that we particularly care to advertise, but I’m really hoping you’ll decide to stay, so I’m going to be as upfront as possible. The cost of living here is -” Sylvanas shifts her weight back and forth and she draws her bottom lip nervously under glinting fangs, she sucks in a breath and in a rush, spills out the terms of the agreement. “thatIgettosiphonmanafromyouliketheSunwell.” 

Jaina cannot believe her good fortune. No rent? To stay here in this beautiful home for nothing? She keeps her face impassive, tamping down the desire to leap from the stool and jump around in pleasure. “Um yes, sure. I’ll take it then.”

Sylvanas looks surprised, a glint flashing in her eyes before she shutters her face into nonchalance. “Wonderful. You can move your stuff in tomorrow. Since government offices are closed and I don’t have to work, I can help. Until then, let me explain how this works.”

Then it hits her. She’s essentially agreed to function as a mana font for an elf, essentially agreed to what Kael’thas has been alluding to since he met her in Dalaran. Her eyes jump up to Sylvanas’ and the knowing smirk is already tugging up one side of her lips. She’s leaning against the island with her arms crossed across her chest, posture closed off and guarded. “Ooookay, explain what I’ve just gotten myself into.” She forces her voice to be steady despite realizing she’s basically whored herself out for an apartment.

“It’s not painful.” Sylvanas hedges, “so if you were worried about that-”

“I wasn’t.”

“We just have to be close-”

“How close?” Jaina looks up from where she was mindlessly tracing the quartz veins in the counter top.

“Closer than this.” Sylvanas indicates the distance between them with her chin. “Listen, if this makes you uncomfortable, there are no hard feelings. Asking, itself, is so awkward…” Sylvanas coughs out a stilted laugh and tightens her arms around herself, “I can only imagine how strange this is on your end.”

Jaina furrows her brow at the shame that flickers in the elf’s eyes and in her posture. Someone so beautiful, so thoughtful shouldn’t be ashamed at having to fulfill a need. “It’s ok. I just wanted to know how close. Is there a compatibility piece to this, like, can you get what you need from anyone or...?”

“No. Any mage will suffice.” Sylvanas purses her lips, the internal debate clear on her face. Jaina can see the struggle between being brutally honest or leaving out details that could be embarrassing. “Any will suffice but I am choosy. There is the potential for the siphoning to become somewhat-” Sylvanas clenches her jaw and pulls in a long slow breath through her nose, “ _ intimate _ -for lack of a better word. Because of that potential, I seek out female mages...but I don’t plan on that happening, so there’s no need to worry.”

_ Intimate _ . Jaina clears her throat. Pack up and go home to Boralus or share possibly intimate mana-siphoning with an incredibly attractive and, so far, quite conscientious elf? When it gets right down to it, Jaina could do with a little no-strings-attached intimacy. When  _ was _ the last time she actually touched another person, even just casual contact?  _ Five minutes ago when you shook her hand. _ She fights a shiver. “Would you be willing to, um, show me what exactly this “siphoning” consists of? I don’t think I can make a decision based on description alone.”

The corner of Sylvanas’ mouth tugs up but her eyes are still cautious, and they rove over Jaina’s face before she nods, apparently satisfied with what she sees there. “Go sit on the sofa. It’s easier if we both have other things to focus on.”

Jaina slips from the barstool and pads over to the plush sofa that divides the room. She sinks into the cushion and tucks her legs up to settle into the corner, against the arm. Sylvanas circles around the other side, a soft, knit blanket over one arm and four books in the other. “I hope you enjoy reading?”

Jaina can’t stop her grin. “Have you ever met a mage who didn’t?” She holds out her hands for the books, looking at the titles and deciding on a storybook. Something light that she can still keep some awareness of her surroundings. She smiles and hands the rest back to Sylvanas, who picks one seemingly at random and puts the rest on the low table in front of them. She then hands the blanket to Jaina and steps forward to drop another log on the fire. 

Jaina unfolds the blanket and arranges it across her lap, threading her fingers through the gaps and spaces in the pattern as she waits, book closed and resting on the arm of the sofa. When Sylvanas comes back to sit down, she looks at the space directly next to Jaina and then at Jaina herself, waiting.

“Oh sit down.” Jaina huffs and throws the other half of the blanket over Sylvanas’ lap when she sits with a smirk. Then she picks up her book and begins to read.

s§s

So much for not getting lost in her book. At least two hours have passed, putting it just an hour or so shy of midnight. Her feet are pressed against Sylvanas’ thigh and there’s a low thread of fatigue running through her that tugs at her shoulders and eyelids. “So that’s it, we just sit here and do this?”

“If there’s no hurry, sure. There are faster ways, but this is easiest.”

“Noted.” Jaina yawns behind her hand. “I don’t know if I’m going to make it another hour.” 

She stretches out, arching her back and throwing her hands above her head before settling back on the couch and staring into the fire.

“I probably took too much, especially for your first go.” Sylvanas looks regretful, “It will be hard not to, your arcane signature-” When she stops abruptly, Jaina turns just in time to see a delicate blush bloom across golden skin. She tilts her head and raises an eyebrow in silent question.

Sylvanas drops her head, an embarrassed smile just barely visible. When she raises it again, she’s looking right at Jaina, “It’s delicious, for lack of a better word.”

This time Jaina can’t stop the shiver.

s§s

She makes it to midnight, feet still pressed against her new roommate, a comfortable silence and flutes of champagne between them both. She falls asleep on the couch, tugged supine and tucked in by the same person. Her move is quick and painless and they develop a routine that holds Jaina to her resolution. She excels in her apprenticeship, and quicker than anyone in history, becomes a candidate for membership in the Kirin Tor. Sylvanas continues in her diplomatic role with Lordaeron, building trade routes and defensive treaties between the elves of Quel’thalas and the human kingdoms. They work together at home, Sylvanas helping Jaina work through Thalassian grimoires and Jaina explaining nuances of human customs and culture. She’s never been happier, or, quite frankly, more confused.

Her stumbling point is her relationship with her roommate. 

Gone are the simple days of feet pressed to thighs. Their casual contact is anything but, now. When they are both home, they are always touching; if they’re not cuddled up on the sofa, they’re holding hands or rubbing the tension out of shoulders and feet. Right now, Jaina is sprawled out on the sofa as she pores over a spellbook of ancient arcana. She’s struggling with a complex blink spell but all Antonidas had done to help was push this tome into her hands and portal her to her front door. Sylvanas hasn’t been home for the better part of two weeks, and Jaina feels her absence so acutely that she’s having trouble focusing. It’s like they’re  _ together _ without actually being together and while she’s content with how they are, she can’t help but wonder if, maybe, it could be something better with just a little more.

What would happen if she gave in to the random odd compulsions to brush her lips against the column of Sylvanas’ neck while she works out a stubborn knot with her thumbs, or grind back against her when Jaina is little-spooned with Sylvanas’ arm curved across her stomach under the blanket on the couch? Jaina’s not naïve; she knows what they do isn’t remotely within the realm of roommate behavior. It’s just so comfortable that she’s afraid that acting on any of her impulses will capsize the ship and leave her stranded at sea. She sighs and settles back in to try and focus on the blathering words of whatever blowhard Antonidas deemed capable of solving her problem, since he apparently couldn’t.

She’s finally able to process the paragraph she’s read and reread a dozen times when the door is thrown open and she loses her place in the flurry of pages by the gust of icy winter wind. Sylvanas stands in the doorway, the deep shadows below her eyes emphasizing their desperate shine.

“Sylvanas!” 

Jaina is off the sofa before she finishes calling out to the other woman, rushing towards her to pull her into the warmth of the house and close the door against the freezing air. She tugs off Sylvanas’ hooded cloak and gloves with rising alarm as Sylvanas remains silent and stock still, only her eyes following Jaina’s movements around her.

“Sylvanas, you’re scaring me.” Jaina cups her face in her hands, tipping her face down to capture Sylvanas’ wild eyes with her own. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“Too long.” 

“Too long what?” She brushes her thumbs along the bruise-dark circles and across high cheekbones, the chill in the elf’s cheeks dissipating against her warm palms. “Slyv, too long what?”

Pale blue eyes roam across her face and she feels Sylvanas’ jaw clench under her hands, but still silence. One more sweep of her thumbs and she drops her hands to take one of Sylvanas’ trembling hands in her own and lead her to the couch. She pushes the other woman down onto the cushions but when she turns to put more wood on the fire, Sylvanas won’t let go of her hand.

“I’ll be right back, just let me build up the fire.” 

Her plea is met with a sharp shake of Sylvanas’ head, and a tug that drags her, tumbling, into Sylvanas’ lap. “I need you close. Too long. I was gone too long.” The reply is a growl tinged with pain and Sylvanas’ hands shake as they hover over her, uncertainly.

“Ok, ok.” She tries to lift herself off Sylvanas’ legs to move next to her, but stops immediately when those shaking hands clasp her hips.

“ _ Anar'alah belore _ , please.” Jaina’s eyes shoot up to see that Sylvanas is almost in full-blown panic. Her normally stoic roommate is begging, and the sheen of tears standing in her eyes breaks Jaina’s heart. Trembling fingers flex and tighten against her sides. “Please...closer.”

“Closer then, darling. Make me closer.” The pet name slips out, her desire to comfort her friend, to take the wildness from her eyes overrides her regular filter. With a gasp she is lifted and pulled astride Sylvanas’ lap, the surprising show of strength shoots a bolt of pleasure through her. Sylvanas groans and buries her face against Jaina’s neck and into the thick fall of hair that she didn’t bother to braid this morning. Her hands slide from Jaina’s hips to palm her ass, pulling them tighter together.

Jaina gasps again, this time as her center is pulled against the firmness of Sylvanas’ abs. She bites her lip to stifle a whimper that almost escapes when Sylvanas tightens her fingers. Scolding herself for the flare of desire that clouds her mind while her friend seeks only comfort, Jaina wraps one arm around hunched shoulders and the other, she buries into Sylvanas’ hair, scratching gently at the back of her head. She can feel the deep breaths puffing against her neck and the subtle drain as Sylvanas draws the mana from her. She presses a soft kiss against Sylvanas’ temple and another on the crown of her head, giving in to the compulsions that have recently begun to plague her.

She can feel Sylvanas’ lips moving against her skin before she can hear the words the other woman whispers. It is her name in a litany, punctuated with gentle kisses at the juncture of neck and her shoulder. When she goes to lean back to check in, Sylvanas’s arms slide up her back and tighten almost uncomfortably. “No, please.”

“Sylv, what do you need? How can I help you?” She whispers against the side of her head, and Sylvanas’ ear twitches at the motion of her lips. The elf groans again as if in pain, and her arms flex impossibly tighter, like she is trying to merge them into one. “Ow, love, too tight. I can’t get any closer.” Sylvanas’ arms loosen minutely, but she nuzzles closer, tucking her face into the gap between Jaina’s shirt and her neck.

“Yes.” The affirmation is just an exhalation against her neck, under the soft cotton of her collar. Jaina jerks a little as a shiver runs up her spine, pooling heat low in her belly, but she ignores it to try to make sense of Sylvanas’ words.

“Then tell me how, and I’ll do it.” She’s begging now. This reversal of Sylvanas’ normally steady presence has her so desperate to fix it, to bring back her stalwart friend. Sylvanas just shakes her head, brushing her lips against the juncture of shoulder and neck with the motion and Jaina huffs in frustration. “Sylv, please.”

“I can’t.” Her lips brush against her neck again and Jaina cannot stop the full body shudder that drives her hips against Sylvanas’ middle. She just manages to bite back an incredibly inappropriate moan. Sylvanas pulls her face from the crux of her neck and shoulder and traces her nose down across her collarbone. Jaina tips her head back to give her more access and pulls in a stuttering breath at the kiss pressed into the hollow of her throat. She almost misses the words that follow the kiss. “I can’t lose you and you don’t want this. I’ll be fine, just stay like this.”

_ You don’t want this...you don’t want this. _ The words echo in her head, their meaning just out of reach. She pushes back against Sylvanas’ shoulders, insistent against the tightening arms. “No, Sylv, stop. Look at me.” She puts her palms to Sylvanas’ cheeks again, this time tipping her head back to look up where Jaina hovers above her. “Do you hurt?” 

Sylvanas refuses to meet her eyes, but she nods slightly. Jaina rewards the admission with lips against a furrowed brow until it smoothes. She murmurs against soft skin, “Do you need faster? You told me when we met there are faster ways.”

The reply is strangled. “I don’t need, but I want.” Jaina’s heart swells with affection for Sylvanas’ strength and self-denial. Since Jaina moved to their home, Sylvanas has done everything in her power to ensure Jaina’s comfort. She can see it now, in hindsight, all the ways that the other woman shows her love. Fresh coffee every morning, ready and waiting because Sylvanas knows Jaina waits until the last possible second to roll out of bed. Bookmarks placed in the various books left open and facedown on every horizontal surface in the house. Patient attention when Jaina flys off the handle about one thing or another, cuddling on the couch and playing with her hair until she is calm enough to think the problem through. 

This time she presses her lips to each cheekbone, pouring all that affection into the action, thumbs caressing the spots just kissed. She rests her forehead against Sylvanas’ and whispers against her lips. “I don’t like seeing you hurting. Especially when I can do something about it. I  _ do _ want this. I want  _ you _ . Please let me help you like you always help me.” Then she leans forward and brushes her lips against Sylvanas’.

Sylvanas groans again, but Jaina can’t tell if the pain is from the withdrawal or self-denial. She pushes back a little farther, one hand on the other woman’s sternum, the other reaching behind her head to grab her shirt collar. With what she hopes is a seductive smile, she raises her arm and pulls her shirt up over her head and tosses it to the floor. The pale blue of Sylvanas’ eyes are eclipsed by black as they flick nervously between Jaina’s lips and her bare chest, where her nipples pebble in the cool air. Jaina tries one last encouragement; she reaches around her waist for Sylvanas’ hands and drags them to her front to cup her breasts. “Take what you need, darling, what we both want.”

And with that, Sylvanas surges forward, capturing her lips in a devastating kiss, leaving her panting and drowning in sensation - fingers pinching and pulling at sensitive nipples, the catch of fangs against the hinge of her jaw and neck, rock-hard abs hot against her wet center. She throws back her head and moans, grinding down against Sylvanas’ lap.

“ _ Belore _ , I have wanted this since we met, I’ve wanted you all this time.” Sylvanas groans again before taking a tight pink nipple between her lips and laving it with her tongue, torn between action and words. “I never thought - I cannot believe I can have you.” Her mouth moves to the neglected breast and Jaina’s eyes close when the sensory input becomes too much. 

Jaina hands fly to the other woman’s head and she cries out when she begins to suck. The heat pooling in her core has overflowed; if she could rub her thighs together they’d be sticky with her desire. Her underwear is ruined and she will certainly soak through her skirts at this rate but she cannot stop rocking against Sylvanas’ middle. “Tides, Sylvanas, please touch me. I’m so close already.”

One long-fingered hand drops away from teasing her nipple to ruck up the layers of her skirts enough to delve below them, while the other slides down her spine to cup her ass. Sylvanas hollows her cheeks around the nipple in her mouth before releasing it with a wet pop. She leans back, fingers tracing along the seam of Jaina’s sodden smallclothes, eyes on the lip that Jaina has drawn to worry between her teeth.

“You are so beautiful like this,  _ dalah'surfal _ , above me, flushed and wet and ready to take my fingers.” Jaina clenches and moans at the husky tone, driving her hips down in an attempt to find friction. The fingers sliding along the soaked fabric moves up to hook into the flimsy waistband and tear it away. “Play with your nipples while you ride me. I don’t have enough hands to do everything I want.” And with that, Sylvanas presses up for a messy kiss and Jaina is filled with fingers and tongue in tandem.

She’s not going to last, not with the filth Sylvanas is growling into her ear or the deep thrusts that keep hitting that spot that threatens to unravel her. She cannot stop the whimpers and whines that tumble from her lips as she rises and falls against Sylvanas’ hand. Everything starts to coalesce; the bright points of pain where fangs press into her shoulder, the tightness of her nipples rolled between her fingers, Sylvanas’ thumb rubbing circles around her clit. She teeters on the knife’s edge, white spots blooming in her field of vision when she hears Sylvanas husk out, “come for me, baby. I can feel you there, just let go.” She cries out when her vision goes white, leaning in as Sylvanas gently works her through it.

She comes-to shifted sideways in Sylvanas’ lap and cradled against her chest, face buried in her neck and blanket draped over her shoulders. Sylvanas’ arms are around her, one hand playing with her hair. When she speaks her voice is froggy, “You’re still dressed.”

Sylvanas just hums as she traces up her spine. “It’s _your_ skin I need bare when I get like that.”

Jaina tucks her arms between them and nuzzles closer against her neck. “I’ve never been so happy to have kept a New Year’s resolution before.”

“Oh?” Jaina has seen Sylvanas’ face enough to know her eyebrow is raised. “What resolution was that?”

“I needed to save money or give up my apprenticeship and go crawling back to my parents.”

Sylvanas tightens her arms in a comforting hug and brushes her lips against Jaina’s temple. “Funny, I’ve managed to keep my resolution too.”

Jaina lifts herself enough to catch Sylvanas’ thoughtful gaze. “What did you resolve to do for this new year?”

“Before I left Quel’thalas, I promised my mother I wouldn’t be an island. That I would give the humans a chance. I wasn’t the most open to moving here.”

“Well I’m glad you did.” She replies softly, and buries her face back into the warmth of Sylvanas’ neck.

It’s quiet for a moment, only the popping of the fire and the soft scratching of Sylvanas’ fingers in her hair before she hears the quiet murmur. “I am too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to my ever-suffering betas Socks n El. Socks for talking me down off the ledge and El for reading the finished product at 11pm because I was desperate.
> 
> ❤️ you both.


End file.
